Two Voices
by Lily S. Brett
Summary: One-shot. Vader's thoughts after his confrontation with Luke on Bespin, and his internal battle to silence Anakin. Anakin 'wakes' in Vader's mind and realizes what he's done. Thanks for reading!


**This piece is pretty similar to a previous story, but please enjoy, and review if the spirit moves you! As ever, I own no part of the Star Wars universe.**

 _I felt nothing as I fought him, nothing even as I wounded him, searing off his right hand with a rush of rage within me. I was the darkness, and the darkness was me; it took savage pleasure, not in his pain, but in the sheer power I wielded over him. I could hear, within my head, a dull ringing. I felt only strength._

 _And so, as he retreated as far as he could from me over the abyss at the center of the city, I told him what had been revealed to me, in its simplest form: I am your father._

 _I was not his father. Yes, the body that I inhabited, broken and almost useless now, had fathered this young man. But it had belonged to a different soul, I told myself, as I had told myself when I learned of his parentage. The being I was now, the being grown mighty in another man's form, was Vader, a soul of darkness. I had always been Vader; the boy's father was a person who had died in battle long ago, and any remnants of his soul had been banished from me. But I revealed the truth of our blood bond to the young man, sensing how strongly it would affect him, knowing how I could wield that power to my advantage._

 _I knew, as surely as if I had seen into the future, that he would relent and join me, that he would see the inevitability of surrender. The darkness lived in him, too – I could feel it. I could feel him fighting it, fighting the desire to come to me. It is useless to resist, Luke. His struggle was written on his bruised face, but he had no choice. There was only one way for him._

 _And then he let himself fall._

 _He dropped from the ledge on which he had precariously stood, eyes meeting mine, choosing – impossibly – escape, an escape I had not anticipated. He chose death over surrender._

 _What I felt, for an instant, was unchecked terror. It was so sudden that it flooded me before I could recognize it; it had been an eternity since I had felt fear, but I was seized with fear now. My heart seemed to drop, a physical sensation that I had nearly forgotten. And the only thought in my mind, for less than an instant perfectly clear, was one of pure horror._

He'll die.

 _Within seconds, I knew he had not died. He had managed, somehow, to direct himself to some kind of temporary safety. But a new terror had risen up in me._

 _This was not Vader. Something else had taken instantaneous control of me, and it was not within the safety of my darkness. Vader was unchanging. Vader only felt his own power._ But my body was suddenly making itself known to me, heart racing, mouth dry, and a strong sensation of burning pain in my right arm that it took me a moment to realize was not my own pain but the boy's. I could sense it all at once, so strongly it made me almost sick, and I leaned on the railing before me for support.

 _What is this? Who is this?_

I was not dead. I had never died. Terror coursed through me now at the discovery of myself, because Vader had never felt this, never felt anything, never believed that he was the young man's father.

But I was Vader. _I am Vader._

And yet I was keenly, overwhelmingly afraid for the boy. I stood frozen as I sensed him, felt his agony burn through me like fire. He was in pain, yes, but his heart was aching, raging. He was scared, confused, and felt cruelly betrayed, by those who had hidden his birthright from him, by me. His soul was screaming out to know why I had not acknowledged him before, why I had become the monster he had seen, why I had left him.

I wanted to reach out to him, to tell him…something…but what? Vader was alive in me, threatening to consume me, to smother me again.

 _I knew that the boy must be left to think that he was alone, to think that he was abandoned. Darkness offers strength to those who have lost hope. I felt as he was rescued, felt relief fill him, and I left the ledge to return to my shuttle. Only when he had been left alone again, flying farther and farther from me, did I reach through space to touch his mind. Luke, I spoke aloud as though he were beside me._

Father? I heard him reply. Somehow, he had accepted already. Somehow he knew.

Son! _Come with me. It is the only way. Luke, it is your destiny._

I went to my cabin. Confusion pounded through my head, leaving me almost feverish. Vader would never feel this, and yet if I was not Vader, then what was I? And if Vader and I were one – and I knew that we were, that I was not a separate man or an innocent one, but inextricably linked to the monster within me – then how could I live with what I had done?

I saw myself for what I was, black gloves and black armor hiding metal limbs. The remnant of a body left to me was nothing, almost a corpse, without functioning organs, without a voice, or eyes that saw. I didn't even know what was left of my face, of the muscles in my shoulders that had once been strong. I suddenly wanted, with feverish desperation, to rip off my armor and my mask, to tear the artificial respirator from my throat, to be something other than the horror my son had seen. For a terrible minute, I felt everything: the disgust and unspeakable shame at what I had become and what I had done, the grief Vader had never felt at what I had lost, but that I had felt while he had drowned it out in darkness. I had grieved in unrecognized, unfelt ways for my wife, for the child I thought I had lost.

 _I feel nothing._

I could still feel the boy, still sense him even as he drifted farther and farther away. My body shook as I tried to feel what Vader tried to blot out. I felt as if I were losing consciousness as Vader took hold of me again, and for the first time since his darkness had entered my soul, I fought against him. I wanted the pain, for once. At least it was my own pain.

 _I feel nothing._

I never held my son as an infant. I never stroked his face or kissed him, or let him fall asleep on my chest. I didn't know what a father should do for his child because I had never learned. And now he was a grown man, or nearly, and he believed that his father had never loved him.

 _I feel nothing._

No! Luke, Luke, I would never have left you. I would have run back to you and with whatever was left of me, I would have held you and loved you and done everything I could to keep you safe. I would have kept you near me, watched you grow, seen your face with my own eyes. I would have seen your mother in you; I might even have seen echoes of myself. If only I had you with me now! My son, I feel your pain, and I want to take it away. I want to find you and somehow explain to you that I am not the evil that you know. That evil grew from the darkness inside me but I am more than the darkness, or I once was. You did not come from evil.

 _I feel nothing._

Perhaps now I _am_ only darkness. Perhaps you should escape me. Don't come back to me, Luke. Run. I would only pull you towards horror and emptiness and nothingness.

 _I feel nothing._

But I am not gone, my son. I am not dead. I am here, within this evil, broken shell.

 _I feel nothing._

I am your father.

 _I feel nothing._


End file.
